The Other Half
by Kataranara
Summary: Ever wonder how the other half lived? You know, the ones that weren't best friends with Harry Potter? Well, this is about a girl in the same year, different house. Overcoming fear, insecurity, and the evil that befalls her and her friends, Kathrine finds her true strength and path. How was the average life changed by Harry Potter's presence here at Hogwarts? We'll see. Mostly OCs.
1. Prologue

**Hello all! This is my second fanfic and it is definitely going to be one of my favorites. This is the prologue and some background information on the main character. This story WILL have a LOT of original characters because it is showing the other half of Hogwarts; those who weren't mentioned in the books. Please, read, review, and enjoy. I hope that you like it so far. It is pretty short but it sets up a good basis for the character. **

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The date was March 4, 1991; I had just turned eleven and for my birthday I got something that I wanted and something that was most unexpected. Mom spent that entire Sunday baking cake and making my favorite meal; lasagna. Dad was busy that day, moving about the countryside with my younger brother and his football camps. He was seven and one of the best athletes in the league. Father had pulled him from primary school that Friday afternoon to check out some potential private schools with great football programs over the weekend. He said they'd be back Sunday night for cake and ice cream. It was somewhat of a tradition on birthdays. I had considered throwing a small party for the few friends I had. My cousin Jasmine would have come but I didn't think many others. I wasn't very popular. However, mom bustled about all day making sure I got my present and I got to lick the batter off the spoon; carrot cake.

"Kat, I don't know when you're father will be home but he said last night on the phone that your brother Reilly was really excited about St. Thomas. They have a great program and the fees are really low…"

"Mom, I'm sure whatever he decides will be fine," I dismissed, walking over to the dining table to grab the book I was working on. One of the more classic works in American literature, The Great Gatsby, was becoming interesting. As I plopped onto the couch I couldn't help but be bitter. Our family wasn't very rich; they could barely afford my uniforms and books for this past year. The fact that they could afford to put Reilly in a private school was more than enraging. All because he could play sports; the golden boy.

Perhaps that was selfish but the idea of spending the next seven years going to football games and listening to dad rave about his "little footballer" was more than unappealing. I wasn't athletic. I tried earnestly by playing softball and basketball but it was in vain. I didn't enjoy it as much as I should have. It just seemed like a chore. I knew dad was disappointed but and that's why he pours all of his efforts into Reilly. I was never meant to be the athletic kind anyway; being an overweight preteen about to head into middle school was not something appealing for anyone.

Mother called me an early bloomer, taking me shopping for my first bra almost two years ago. That was another appealing trait to our lineage other than the extreme height, uncommon dark hair, and a genealogical tree spanning over six countries. To say we were mutts would be an understatement considering our Irish, Scottish, English, French, Belgian, German, and Dutch roots mixed together culminated what now sits before you; myself.

That birthday wasn't really that bad. I did get my walkman, listening to Guns and Roses, Nirvana, Alice Cooper, and AC/DC all day gave me an outlook that I'd probably never would have developed if it weren't for my dad's stash of rock albums. As I lay on the couch, thumbing through The Great Gatsby and blaring "Money Talks" I found a sort of calm about the idea of growing old. I wanted it to hurry up so I could do as I pleased but that day never came fast enough.

Before I knew it my mother was standing above me, her face looking slightly annoyed. I pulled off my headphones and looked up at her with a quizzical look.

"You didn't hear me at all? I said your father just called, he'll be home in a half an hour or so. Dinner will be ready by then so I'd like for you to set the table while I go take care of your brother Arthur." She turned away from me now, heading for the stairs where I could now hear a whining child. It had been only six months since he was born and already I could tell he was going to be a hastle. "Watch the oven as well," she called as she ascended the stairs. "It should be going off any second. You can just shut it off when it does."

I sighed, standing up off the couch and setting my book down. It was then that I first noticed it, something I'd never thought I'd see. There, standing out in our back yard, just on top of one of the fence posts, was a gray owl, his luminous eyes watching me closely. What really surprised me was that in his beak was a letter. I didn't want to frighten it so I slowly walked across the dining room to the door, watching the owl intently. It was then that I noticed the letter was addressed to me. The second I started to push the door open the owl dropped the letter on the bush below it and spread its wings, taking flight. It wasn't the first time I'd marvel at such a creature.

I bent down to scoop up the letter, the contents feeling heavy as I scanned the green lettering. It said:

Miss Katherine Abernathy  
14400 Cheshire Lane.  
Trowbridge, Wiltshire

I remember my hands were trembling as I held the letter. It was almost unbelievable that someone would be sending me a letter through an owl; I seriously thought I was going crazy. I quickly went back into the house, the timer for the over beeping on the stove. I immediately shut it off and set the letter down on the counter next to it. As I was setting the table my mother came downstairs carrying my infant brother. He was a cute baby, almost an exact clone of my other brother except for his hair wasn't darkened yet, on the contrary he was a very Germanic baby; blonde hair blue eyes.

"The lasagna smell good?" she asked, moving to sit at one of the chairs around the table. Arthur was hungry. She grabbed the bottle that was sitting on the counter and began feeding him, his fussing quieting immediately.

"Yeah, it does," I replied, moving over to the stove to pick up my letter. The second I did mom noticed and immediately started asking questions.

"What is that? It's Sunday, there should be no post…"

"Don't make fun of me but an owl dropped it off," I said, thumbing the letter before grabbing a corner and ripping it open.

"Don't open it!" my mother argued, startling Arthur as she moved to stand up. She wasn't a very fast woman but the way she sprang from that chair immediately had me questioning her.

"Too late, why shouldn't I open it?"

"Here, hold Arthur," my mother said, handing off my baby brother to my arms before going over to the wall and grabbing the telephone. "Your aunt should be here."

"I don't get it," I said, my little brother cradled in the crook of my arm, his soft slurps and coos distracting me momentarily. I still clutched the letter in my hand. "Who are you inviting over? Why shouldn't I open this letter?"

"Please, " my mother said, snatching it from my hand before going back to the phone.

"Hey! That's mine you know. I want to know what it is," I said, moving to hand Arthur back to her but she gave me that look, you know the one your mother always gives when she is warning you to back off and you never listen.

"You'll have it in a little while. It's probably a birthday present. Wait for your father to get home," she said hastily, dialing a number on the phone. "Take him and put him in his play pen with his blanket." I scoffed at her before turning around and doing as she asked. Once Arthur was calm and drifting to sleep I heard my mother hang up the phone, a look of worry on her face.

"What is it? What is the big deal? What kind of person sends a birthday card with an owl?" I asked, my eyes narrowing. "And who's coming over?"

"You're aunt Iris is coming over. You're father should be here any minute so let's get dinner on the table. You can open the letter when they get here," she dismissed, moving back into the kitchen. I watched her for a moment before noticing that she was still gripping the letter.

"Mom, what is it? You're acting odd…"

Before I could finish there was someone at the door. Mom was gone from the kitchen in an instant, answering the door to someone with a rushed and excited voice. Then, there she was, my aunt Iris. She was an odd one. She wore long, draping robes and bright jewelry. Not to mention she always smelled like a really heavy perfume. Behind her was another surprise; my cousin Jasmine had come with her.

"There's the birthday girl!" my aunt said, a grin on her face. She quickly hugged me and then moved into the living room to see Arthur. My mother shut the door behind Jasmine and rushed into the living room with my aunt. Jasmine looked sick, almost afraid.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I asked her, her eyes growing slightly wide.

"Oh, nothing I just… well, you'll see…"

"What does that mean?" I asked, moving to follow her into the living room. My mother was standing in front of the fire place, her eyes glancing from my aunts face to the letter that was now in her hand.

"What is going on?" I asked, becoming even more impatient. "What is with this letter? Mom is acting weird for some reason and won't let me read it. Why do you get to?"

My aunt just grinned, moving to sit down on the couch. "We might as well tell her Diana. She's just going to become more confused and enraged."

"I don't know if I should without John being here…" my mother began, looking uncertain.

"Just tell me," I urged. "It is my birthday after all."

"Tell her what?" came my father's voice. He was standing in the doorway between the dining room and the living room.

"When did you get in? You're early," my mother asked, walking over to him and grabbing his arm. "Kat got a letter today."

"The post doesn't run on-," he began but then he stopped, his eyes growing wide. "But, I thought it was only Iris and her children?"

"It can skip a generation. Mother was an accomplished witch, her medical practices known far and wide throughout the war," Iris pointed, looking between my mother and father and then at me.

"Witch?" came Reilly's voice, his eyes narrowing up at my aunt. He was carrying a football and wearing a jersey that read: St. Thomas. "Grandma was a witch?"

"It is time you guys knew what our family can really do," my father said, his voice almost stern, something that never happened without provocation. "Kat, Reilly, sit down."

This little talk brings me to that fall. It was July 31, only a couple days before I left for Hogwarts. It was my first trip to London and I found myself surrounded by witches and wizards. Apparently our family has been witches and wizards from Germany and France for five generations. My grandmother, one of the great medical healers of her day, married a British soldier who was stationed in France during the war. Apparently my aunt Iris is the only witch out of my father's two sisters. He didn't even get the chance to go to Hogwarts, which is where I was going for the first time that fall. Apparently magic can skip generations. My grandmother's father and mother were both pure blood sorcerers from Germany and so I have cousins in both Germany and France that go to wizarding academies.

I will be the first Abernathy to attend Hogwarts since my aunt and what made it less scary was that Jasmine was going as well. But that is all family history and that really isn't what the story is about. Anyway, mother, father, Aunt Iris, and Jasmine were all with me when we went shopping for the first time in Diagon Alley. Jasmine, who was only five months younger than I, was attending Hogwarts for the first time this year as well. She'd already gotten her wand and books. Since my father and mother only had muggle money, my aunt Iris started a bank account for them. It was quite a trip.

I remember spending nearly two hours in the book shop "Flourish and Blotts" before finally going to get fitted for my Hogwarts robes and my wand. I couldn't stop leafing through the book titles. Books about magical beasts, spells, potions, the wizarding world, and Hogwarts itself. Of course I convinced mother and father to buy me some extra books. My curiosity got the better of me. I got Hogwarts: A History as required with some other books but a book that wasn't on my list was a fascinating book called Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. It may have seemed selfish but at the time I was just excited to be learning something that was impossible only months before. That and sticking it to my brother. We wouldn't know if he would get a letter on his eleventh birthday or not. It wasn't all fun; I got some odd looks. It comes with being a 5'10 eleven year old with frizzy dark hair and size twenty pants. I stuck out like a sore thumb.

However, after the robe fitting I had to go into Olivanders where my wand would be chosen. While everyone else went to the pet store, I wandered into Ollivanders. I still remember that moment clearly. I stepped through the door and was immediately assaulted with the scent of pine mixed with sandalwood. It choked me slightly but I bit back the urge to wrinkle my nose and started looking around. I grabbed a box off the shelf and pulled out a wand. It was a short wand with a light colored wood and an intricate handle pattern. It felt cold in my fingers and I couldn't help but take it in my hand and wave it. That was a bad idea because the second I did the two shelves above me spilled their contents all over me and the floor.

I was about to bend down to pick up all the fallen wands when all of a sudden they started twitching before flying back into their individual boxes and back onto the shelf. I was baffled, but it wasn't surprising. I'd learned when I first came to Diagon Alley that nothing was impossible.

"My," came a man's voice from my left. I turned quickly, half expecting the angry shop owner to berate me. However, he was just smiling. "You look a lot like her. Miss Abernathy, correct?"

"Kat," I said, my eyes watching him. He had gray hair but the light behind his eyes reminded me of a happy child. He was almost giddy. "Who?"

"Nice to meet you, I'm Mr. Ollivander," he said, holding out his hand. I shook it and then he smiled. "You look a lot like your grandmother. I remember the day she came in for her wand." He then turned, grabbing a box on the shelf just behind me. "She had a dragon core. Perhaps this will work for you." He opened the box in front of me, motioning for me to touch it. I grabbed the handle, which was smooth and a medium brown. "This is made of Alder wood, one of the most desirable woods to make a wand out of. When happily placed it becomes a most loyal companion."

I nodded before swishing it. Another mistake because this time, nothing happened; not even a slight breeze of movement. He sighed, his brow knitting before turning around to go down another aisle. He made it all the way down to the end before reaching up, almost three shelves above his head, to grab another box. "Yes, here it is…" he said, a smirk on his face as he approached me.

"How do you know?" I asked, my hand outstretching to the box.

"The art of wand making is a mysterious one," he said. "Maybe in time you can learn a thing or two, but right now the wand must choose the witch. Take it."

I opened the top of the box and looked down at the wand. It was beautiful. It was all black with a simply designed handle, perfect for gripping. It also felt warm, almost alive as I held it. "It's a 14 and a half inch wand made of Ebony. Perfect wood for those who know exactly what they believe and who they are. Unicorn hair is its core. Very consistent and very powerful. Go ahead, give it a wave."

I nodded, raising the wand before giving it a light flick. When I did the most amazing rays of gold, blue, green, and red came shooting from it. Mr. Ollivander just smiled, nodding. "That's the one. That will be seven galleons."

I nodded as Mr. Ollivander wrapped the box in some simple parchment before taking my money. When he handed me the box I couldn't help but hide it in my jacket, fearing that if I didn't it would be stolen or taken away. It was an irrational fear but I couldn't help it. "Thank you Mr. Ollivander," I said only to find that he had disappeared into his shelves again. I shrugged, turning to leave the shop. When I got outside I almost ran into another potential student coming to buy his wand. He looked a bit thrilled and awestruck, like I was. He had dark hair like I did with big round glasses and bright green eyes. He must have been what they call "muggle-born" as well. I just smiled slightly at him before stepping around him so he could go into the shop. I'd look back on this meeting in the future and realize how ironic it was. That boy was Harry Potter.

I remembered staying up late almost every night for the next month studying Hogwarts: A History and the book that my parents had bought me as an extra bonus. It was fascinating. There was a lot of talk about the two wars, advances in magical practice, and about the most famous wizards and witches of the past century. I was more than surprised when I saw a picture and brief biography of my grandmother inside. It basically said what we already knew. She as a magnificent witch with a proficiency in herbology, medical spells, and potions. It was because of her that many soldiers made it back to their families. Of course, I knew immediately who "You-Know-Who" was and the legend behind his rise and fall. Also, after asking my aunt, I found out who the headmaster of Hogwarts was. Albus Percival Wulfrick Bryan Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of our time.

Hogwarts also intrigued me. I read Hogwarts a history through fully before flipping through it to learn more about the individual houses.

"I was in Hufflepuff," my aunt explained. "Uncle Terrance was in Gryffindor, two years ahead of myself. It was really sweet how he'd try to get my attention in class and in between. He was so funny."

"What do you think I'll get?" I asked over dinner the night before we left for London and the train on platform 9 ¾. "I'm nervous."

"Same here," Jasmine said. "What if I'm put in Slytherin? There isn't a witch or wizard that wasn't bad that was in Slytherin."

"That's not true!" Iris objected. "My best friend was in Slytherin. Penny Parkinson. She was such a kind girl once you got to know her."

"I actually like Slytherin," I said, munching on the pizza mom had made. "I mean, he may have been cunning and cruel but he only wanted what was best for the magical community. Besides, a lot of powerful witches and wizards have come from Slytherin."

"I hope we get the same house," Jasmine admitted. "I would rather room with you than anyone else."

"Same here…" I admitted. "I guess we will just have to wait and see. The sorting hat isn't wrong."

"I can't wait to start learning magic," Jasmine admitted. "I'm so excited. I mean, think of the possibilities. We'll meet other witches and wizards and everything!"

"You girls better not stay up all night over this," my father joked, a smile in his eyes.

"That's right; it's a long journey to Hogwarts. You won't want to miss the ride through the Scottish highlands," Uncle Terrance interjected.

"Just don't go getting into trouble and for God-sakes, please play it safe," my mother urged, her eyes darting to mine. I could tell she still wasn't taking this so well. She was born to a muggle family however, when she met my father and his family, they filled her in right away. She's been skeptical of it since.

"Mom, I'll be fine. There are experienced witches and wizards to train me. The worst case scenario is that I brew the wrong type of potion and have pink hair or something for a week."

My attempt at humor seemed to fly right over my mother's head because she just shook her head before going to calm a crying Arthur. I waited for my aunt and uncle to leave before approaching my father. He was sitting on the couch in the living room, watching the nightly news and sipping a brew.

"Dad, can I talk to you?" I asked, watching him cautiously. He didn't look up at me right away but when he did he immediately knew that something was wrong.

"Nervous?" he asked, putting his foot up on the coffee table.

"You could say that…"

"You'll be great sweety," he said. "Your aunt was nervous, just like you are now. I'm telling you, I've only been there once and it was the most beautiful, and magical, place I'd ever seen."

"It's not that really," I said, biting my lip. "I'm no good with new people. Sometimes they judge before they know…"

"Same problem as elementary school?" my father asked, his arm going around my shoulder as he stood up. He pulled me into a hug before looking back down at me. "You have a great sense of humor and you're so smart. Just try to be friendly, you're real friends will find you."

I worried the rest of the night, laying awake well into the morning over-thinking it. I was never normal to begin with. I liked reading and writing and found gaming and painting to be sweet escapes from reality. I didn't have many friends to begin with. The ones that I did have weren't what I would have called best friends. I had to write down my thoughts in my journal for an hour before I became too tired to concentrate. It felt like only moments later that I was woken up by my mother.

The ride to the train station was the longest I'd ever been on. I was so excited to get on that train, yet dreading the implications. I'd be gone, except for holidays, from my family and the muggle world I knew. I'd be thrown into a world of magic and mythological creatures that couldn't be further from the life I'd been living. What scared me the most was being a dud at magic. I hadn't practiced anything at all, as per the rules of the school. But I saw my aunt perform some rudimentary spells like cooking, cleaning, and healing spells. It wasn't much but I was immediately intimidated.

When we arrived at the train station I was in for another treat. Running at that wall for the first time makes your heart race. I honestly thought I'd crash and attract every muggles attention within the terminal. You can imagine my relief when I busted through the gateway, right onto a noisy platform full of students and parents. There were so many people that we barely had time to grab our bags and trunks. Mom kissed me goodbye and hugged me before dad did the same, motioning for me to board the train. It seems like it went by in a blur and thinking back on it, it really did.

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**Review please! I'd love to get some critiques as well as compliments. **


	2. Chapter 1

TBA


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